A Tangent Of The Strangest Kind
by RedWritingRebel
Summary: It's Friday night; the moon is high, the lowlifes are plentiful, and Raphael should be busting their heads with Casey Jones right about now, but the man is no where to be found. And the red masked turtle's search for his friend is about to take a tangent of the strangest kind... A OneShot written for the Stealthy Stories challenge: 'A new kind of torture...'. This is NOT a romance.


**Disclaimer: Erm... I'm broke, and that wouldn't be the case if I owned or made a profit from the turtles. *sigh*  
**

**A/N: 'ello! Rebel here with another Oneshot. If you have never read my work, please don't take this as my norm, this was meant to get me out of my comfort zone. Cause, you see, I stumbled upon this Stealth Stories challenge 'A new kind of torture...' and my muse latched onto a... semi amusing idea. So I spent a whole afternoon typing up an outline, that same night passed blazing through the first half, and a few writing sessions later (which should have been dedicated to NIU and WMB) ta da! 'A tangent of the strangest kind'... The name of this is due more to the fact that it became a tangent away from my other writings than anything else, funny that it actually fits the story now. LOL.  
**

**Oh, also please note that I restrained myself from rewriting this half a dozen times... all I allowed myself was grammar and spell checking. Like I said, this is outside my norm and was meant to make me feel as uncomfortable as possible. *fidgets***

**Anyways, hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. ^_^**

**Word count: 5827**

**Warning: For a moody April, some foul language, and my not so witty wit. DX**

**Exercise goal: Be random and screw perfectionism.**

**Summary: **_It's Friday night; the moon is high, the lowlifes are plentiful, and Raphael should be busting their heads with Casey Jones right about now, but the man is no where to be found. And the red masked turtle's search for his friend is about to take a tangent of the strangest kind._

* * *

**A Tangent of the Strangest Kind**

When Raphael found him, he was going to kick his ass to China Town.

It was bad enough Casey Jones only charged his cell once in a blue moon, but making the red masked turtle waste a half hour rooftop jumping to Brooklyn, only to find an empty apartment where the ape supposedly resided? Well, that was bull. It was Friday, which meant the two had a date with the scum of New York City, and maybe a few beers and large meat lovers pizza afterwards. It was something of a tradition between the two friends; one which clearly wasn't happening tonight.

Silently, Raphael wondered if this was what being stood up felt like.

With a dark smirk, he landed on a fire escape and listened to its rusty scream of protest. Damn... he sounded like a girl at prom.

_Yeah_, _t__he_ _spiteful_ _kind_.

Knuckles rapped against a window, impatient and hard enough to make the glass rattle. Inside, a red head glanced up and waved an inviting hand. Raphael jimmied the stubborn plane up and slipped in.

"Raphael, it's so good to see you." April's lips were worn down at the edges, as if that bright smile was in pain.

"Well, that's a first," he quipped, casting a gaze around the room. Casey wasn't here either.

Strands of hair hung over emerald eyes like a wet curtain. April swiped them back with a huff. "Don't get too excited," she teased, "I need a favor."

The turtle turned his stare to the woman. She was slumped against the kitchen counter, bobbing a teabag in a pinstriped mug. In her eyes was a look comparable to nothing less than a poked bear.

"Er, you okay, Ape? Yer don't look too good."

"Always the charmer," she mumbled into her tea.

Oh boy, what did he just step in? Raphael drew back and looped his fingers in his belt, he bounced on his toes once and blinked slowly. April sounded pissed, and looked a little green. And where both occurrences of mood swings and sickness were rare, Raph learned long ago to ignore neither.

He cleared his throat. "A favor?" he prompted with a hopeful glance at the window.

"I need you to pick something up for me, at the store..." she took a long sip, as if unsure how to finish.

"And that would be?"

April pinched her lips together and fiddled with the cup as if it had suddenly sprouted legs.

An irritated huff left him. "April, come on, I ain't got all night."

With another long mulling, she pulled a cookie jar down and removed a dozen bills. "It's just a little errand, shouldn't take you more than a few minutes. Go in, grab some tampons, maybe some aspirin—"

"Wait, what?" Raph's eye ridges raised, the look was returned with an innocent blink from Miss O'Neil.

_Crap_.

"That... please tell me that's some brand of topical Greek yogurt and not what I think it is."

When April only continued to smile, wearily but warm, the turtle took a new course of action. As denial and disbelief obviously weren't cutting it. As naively as he could, Raph unwound a hand and waved it at his body. "No offense, Ape, but I ain't exactly the best candidate for 'errand boy'." he chuckled nervously and reveled in the idea that suddenly rose in his mind. "I'm sure Casey could handle it, though."

Hellfire flashed in April's eyes at the mention of his name, as bright and dangerous as an earth bound asteroid.

"Mr. Jones," she hissed, drilling a nail into the counter top. "Is a selfish ape. The last time I asked him to run an errand he refused."

"And I'm sure he learned his lesson," Raph deadpanned, "Just give him a call and let him make it up to ya."

Ruefully, the woman tipped her teacup back, her mouth twisted into something between a snarl and a frown. The face smacked him with the hazy recollection of Casey complaining about April the night before. His human friend's voice a slur of gripes on how the couple weren't talking to each other. How he had pissed her off in one way or another. _Again_.

Raph face palmed. "Okay, so Case's an ass," he relented. "But this is topside, I ain't dressed to blend in. Heh, unless ya don't mind takin' the heat from Splinter—"

"Mikey left his clothes the last time he was here." she leaned back and lobbed a thumb towards her bedroom."They're in the closet."

Dammit. Raphael glared at the nearest tangerine wall, mind skipping over itself for an escape route. But no words rose against the hideous paint, and no brothers burst to the rescue.

_There's an idea..._

"Donnie—"

"Wouldn't pick up." April interrupted.

His mouth snapped shut as if it had just been sucker punched. And did Raph ever feel like a sucker...

"I wouldn't ask you this unless I had to, Raph. It's just—I'd do it myself but between the cramps and this headache, well... I just," tears glistened in the light, seeping from the corner of her eyes like liquid gold.

_Yeah_, _fool's_ _gold_.

"Alright, alright, just quit talkin' about it." he took the money from April's outstretched hand and tromped towards the bedroom. He ransacked the closet and awkwardly tugged his brother's clothes over his shell.

All the while cursing turtle luck.

* * *

He strode down the street with his head dipped low. Every step hurt in the human sneakers, they were too wide at the heel and too narrow at the toes. Clown shoes would fit better.

Amber eyes rolled with the thought. He fussed with the hood, his nose winkling against the smell that clung to the outer jacket: Corn chips. _Ugh_. Of course Mikey would be the only bonehead to leave his topside clothes at April's... he probably thought she'd wash them for him, the bum.

He shook his head and tried not to breathe.

"Get in, get out, how freakin' hard can it be? I'm a ninja fer cryin' out loud." he glanced at the buildings, begrudgingly realizing that the nearest drugstore was nearly another dozen blocks from his current location. "'It should only take you a few minutes'," Raph mocked.

He scrunched the money in his pocket and scanned the rooftops. Sirens wailed in the distance, a call to fight that went unanswered as the ninja continued his oh so noble task.

"Stupid street scum... should be busting heads right now... and why the hell do _I_ always walk in on this crap?! Casey Jones can't keep a woman, so I get dragged in the mess, da hell is that all about? I'm single fer a damn reason..." well, besides the obvious.

A whining door, rusty bell, and harsh fluorescence finally silenced his muttering. Raphael pushed into the small store, his hands deep in his pockets, and lifted his amber eyes just enough to scan the signs that hung above the aisles.

Lemon scented bleach deceived the true hygiene of the drugstore. The once white tiles were speckled brown and suctioned to Raph's poorly fitting shoes like hungry leeches. It looked gross, it sounded disgusting, it made him nauseous.

But walking another three blocks to a nice old Walgreen's wasn't compelling enough to send him back onto the streets. The sooner this was over, the better.

At the very back of the store, Raphael marveled, in anything but awe, at the sheer amount of feminine products that lined the shelves. His eyes widened to saucers against the multicolored packages and the multitudes of terms spattered across the boxes.

"Kotex? Maxi? Wings? The hell..." he stepped back, mind reeling as to what, exactly, that could possibly mean for these... 'products'. He scrunched his beak. "Do they do different things?"

"Not really," a woman said, surprising the turtle out of his stupor.

"Uh,"

The brunette cast a sneaky glance his way. Her large lips twisting into something between a smirk and a smile. "Girlfriend?" she asked, picking a black box up.

Raphael tugged his hood lower and shook his head. "You'd think."

A giggle bubbled from the girl, her shoulders bouncing as the sound echoed through the store shrilly. "Aw, that's cute, a boy who thinks he knows what goes on in my head. Cliché much?"

His brain sputtered out like a dying engine, rolling over on itself in an effort to restart. The key was turned, and the process repeated. Finally, with a blink, he blew out a frustrated breath and drew understanding.

Just his luck, one of those 'every boy is infatuated with me' types. "...Lady," he drew, "they don't come more original than me."

"That's what they all say." she tapped her sky high heels to some imaginary beat, her overly glossy lips puckering as she perused a different brand, this one an obnoxious pink and green.

"Yer new to this or somethin'?"

"Flirting?" offense sharpened her tone.

Raphael snorted, loud and lazy. "_These_," he inclined his head at the shelves, wondering if he could reach out, grab one, and escape without the girl seeing green.

_Should've worn gloves._

Her cheeks flushed with the self-served backhand. "No wonder she isn't your girlfriend, you're a prick and a half." she stomped off, swiping the black box up again on her clanking way.

"Yeah, _that's_ why I'm at a friggin' drugstore right now, buying some stupid products. Not because my ass of a friend can't seem to grasp the concept of thinkin' before speakin'. Or the fact that fate likes to screw me over every damn chance it gets. _Oh_ no..." still growling complaints, he grabbed a box that looked like a regurgitated rainbow and fled the area.

As he passed, people eyed him as if he were insane. And that social scrutiny alone caught his tongue in mid-rant.

"April had just better freakin' appreciate this." plastic screeched and paper crinkled against the cashier's counter.

A lanky boy glanced up from a magazine at the disturbance. He kicked his feet down from their milk crate throne and scratched cruelly at his already scabbing ear. Yawning, he rang the feminine products up with a beep of his yellowing scanner.

"That all, Mame—er, Sir?" he sputtered when he finally spared Raphael a look.

Indignation lit the turtle's face, and never in his life had he been more grateful for the shadows. With a growl that rivaled any enraged howl from any animal, Raph dipped his chin and swallowed his insults. "Yeah,"

Seconds later a magenta bag slid across the counter. The boy offered the change from the purchase guiltily. Raphael stole both up and bolted for the door.

"Have a nice night!" the cashier called.

Outside, Raphael kicked a can across the cracking cement. "Nice night, my shell." the heat of midsummer was stifling, and these baggy clothes weren't helping things. The red masked turtle tugged at his collar like an outlaw at a noose. How humans could handle these woven prisons was beyond him.

An alley beckoned him off track. Rooftops, freedoms.

_Oh shell yeah._

Before he could ditch the stinky clothes or recover from the blows to his manliness, however, someone laughed. Many someones.

Or, more accurately, many no-ones. At least in Raph's book, Purple Dragons didn't count at humanity. They were bottom feeders living on the shaken down backs of respectable citizens.

The scum circled him swinging their pipes and bats and chains. Tattooed and pierced faces sneered at him.

With a start of elation, Raphael realized the thugs didn't know he was a mutant turtle. They saw him as another victim and were planning on treating him as such.

Oooh, weren't they in for a surprise.

He was going to enjoy this.

"Would ya lookie at the midget that just wandered into our alley, boss?" a scrawny guy cackled. "What's the matter, you lost?"

Raphael slid the magenta bag up his arm, his fingers fisting to the ready. "As a matter of fact, I am. Stupid alley 's uncharted territory fer me," he said with a smirk. "You look like the locals, mind pointin' me in the right direction?"

A boy no older than himself stepped forwards, growling, but his animistic gait stopped to a large hand against his chest. "You can't count or do you just have some kind of death wish?" the ape asked.

"A little bit of both is my guess." the kid chuckled.

"It's his common sense that's lacking, boys." the voice was from a female, familiar and pitched to flirt. Beneath the buzzing lamp post stood two smaller figures, both twisting their hair and gawking.

"It's a little hot out for all those layers, hon." a brunette, suspiciously similar to the one in the drugstore, crooned at him.

"Yeah, why so shy?" a blond, her nails a nauseating shade of neon orange, draped her arm over the other woman's shoulder. She smiled slyly and pressed her mouth against the girl's exposed ear. "Think he's hiding anything pretty under that hood?"

A hum vibrated in Neon's throat, as if she were savoring something. Right... Raphael couldn't have just walked a few blocks and avoided these creeps.

Disturbing just didn't cut it anymore; Even for the Purple Dragons, this was sick.

"If there is," a jealousy oozing man retorted, "It won't be fer long, babe."

Further into the shadows, a neck cracked. "Why don't we find out, boys." at the burly leader's command, the circle constricted.

Before him, pipes and bats and chains raised and rattled. Raphael couldn't help the smirk that smacked itself onto his face.

Well, maybe he could salvage some of his lost masculinity after all.

The first blow wasn't a strike at all. It was a hand, Neon's, reaching to remove his ebony hood. Quick as a striking snake, Raphael caught her wrist.

"Trust me, ya really don't want ta do that." he warned.

No sooner had the words left his mouth was he ducking beneath a bat. When Mr. Envy swung again, Raph feinted away and struck out with his leg. The man toppled onto his face, cussing.

The clothes bunched around him as he bounced away from another blow, uncomfortable and restricting. He couldn't free his sais from the tangle of threads that made up the heavy jacket. And, silently, he cursed Mikey's clothe choice.

Raph blocked a bat, dodged a pipe, spun out of a chain's cruel lash and sprung up so close to the blond that the woman struck out once more. By her unnatural nails the hood was seized and flipped off.

There was a collective gasp. Then: "It's the freak!"

"You ever hear yerselves?" Raph countered, setting himself into a cocky stance. "Cause believe me, you clowns ain't exactly what I'd call 'normal'."

The blond woman, her mouth gaped, placed her hands on her hips with a grin. "I don't know, he doesn't look too bad to me," she hummed. "Maybe in the dark..."

Clearly the woman was trying to piss her boyfriend off. And it didn't take a genius to see it was working. Mr. Envy's blotchy face darkened like a bruise, his brows burrowed towards his flaring nose, and his shoulders rose to his ears as if to cover steam. It was comical as a cartoon. Raphael didn't get the chance to even chuckle.

A fist flew towards him. He sidestepped, deftly dodging punches and pipes.

"Where did you bozos learn how to fight, Broadway? Or maybe," Raphael flipped over a purple haired head, grabbed sweaty shoulders, and flung the thug across the alley, "Ya got lessons from some grandmas. Then again, I've met tougher old birds than you clowns."

In a spur of indignation, half the gang hurled themselves on the turtle. The plastic bag sputtered out air as it was batted around, shrieking with every motion. Raphael gritted his teeth and rolled away from the flaring limbs, annoyed with the gathering fabric that made moving harder.

The two women in the corner smiled his way. Knowing grins on over glossed lips that could only spell trouble. Raph raked his eyes over the group, counting the goons even as he knocked another one out.

There wasn't a purple haired punk in sight.

The discovery slammed into him the same time a pipe did. Stars burst behind his lids as he fell; he groaned into the ground as if passing a secret to an ear.

In front of him, a Purple Dragon received the dropped bag. Raphael jerked himself up, the world spinning like a carousel.

_Oh_ _hell_ _no_.

But it was too late. The contents spilled across the concrete like a cocktail. It pranced it's bright colors through the dimness without a concern for dignity or grace.

A chorus of laughters and jeers rose up alongside Raphael's growl. "And here I thought we were dealin' with males."

"No way, Billy! My money 've been on chicks for months! Pay up."

"Da hell is wrong with you?"

"They don't sound like it."

"They ain't human, Ted, they ain't like us—"

"Yeah, but—"

"No buts. I ain't giving you a dime."

"Who the hell would make a bet on what these things are?!"

Raphael, through the haze of a concussion, had to agree. First the girls giggling at him, and now _this_. What crap hole did the Purple Dragons recruit these sickos from? It wouldn't matter soon anyways, because Raph was more than ready to send them back.

Rough hands caught him before he could lunge, restraining him just long enough for Mr. Envy's fist to collide squarely with his jaw. Raphael reeled into a wall with a loud crack.

"I don't care what it is, the freak's dead." He cracked his knuckles. "I'll teach ya to hoard in on my turf."

"Pal," Raphael drew through a mouthful of blood. "It ain't my fault yer girlfriend doesn't find yer brand of stupid attractive. And trust me," he spat at the nearest shoes. "That mug of yours ain't exactly model material either."

That earned another blow, one Raphael didn't stick around for. The turtle feinted aside and watched the brick behind him dent, but the damage to the alley's face had nothing on Envy's fist. With a yowl that rivaled a pack of dying wolves, he stumbled back, cradling the limb into his stained tank-top.

Raphael somersaulted through the newly formed hole, swaying on his feet even as he ripped a sleeve off and tore the tattered seam down his side. Steel flashed from the now loose folds.

"Who wants some?" he slurred while spinning his sais.

Traded glances amongst the gang divided the field, half backing out of the alley, half undeterred, and one, Mr. Envy, cradling his arm between the groups and belonging to neither. The mob mentality drew the battle to a standstill, because now there were options. Because now Raphael had his blades and the consequences of siding wrongly would be higher than some bruised knuckles.

Raphael lunged forwards as viciously as a hawk, his talons poised to skewer prey. And like rabbits in a desert field, the group scattered to whatever hole would hide them.

Straightening, Raph sheathed his weapons and shook his head. "Cowards."

"A-hem, are you forgetting something?" Neon stood under the lamp, her hands firmly planted on her hips. Behind her curtain of curly blond hair was the brunette.

"Cyndy, let's just go. Come on." she urged.

But Neon—Cyndy, didn't budge. "You can go ahead doll, third wheels kill first dates, ya know."

At his wits end, Raphael peeled away every layer of clothes and pitched them into the mouth of a garbage can. He swiped up the accursed tampons, stuffed the box in the bag as if it were a body, and tied the handles to his belt.

"Why don't ya do society a favor and check yer friend into the nearest asylum."

The brunette pulled Cyndy back, as if to obey the angry turtle's command. Clearly she wanted nothing more than to follow her group to safety.

Cyndy tugged free and stumbled towards Raph. "Hey, I'm not crazy," she said, tapping her fingers off her chest as if to brush away the insult. "What else do you expect a girl to do when she's faced with this..." she waved at him with no words. "My only complaint is that I didn't get to unwrap you myself."

The throbbing in the back of his head spread to his temples, and Raph had to wondered if that blow didn't just knock him unconscious. _Yeah, this is all one big delusion, I'm out like a light right now and... _Actually, that would be worse. He changed directions, rubbing the head wound with tentative fingers. His thick digits came back bloody, but the accompanying pain banished the 'unconscious theory' instantly.

Definite concussion... which could mean impaired judgment. And that was one hazardously unpredictable road Raphael sure as hell wasn't traveling on, he'd much rather fall off a roof. At least he knew the consequences of _that_.

He stepped away from the girls, away from the neon tipped hands that were so curious to explore his inhuman form. He couldn't leave this alley, not without risking exposure. But that rusty fire escape?

With a final glance at the awestruck psycho, Raphael launched himself into the air and latched onto the lowest rung of the ladder. It cried its protest in harmony to Cyndy's.

"Wait! I'm wearing heels, how do you expect me to—"

Safely situated over a dozen feet up, Raph heaved a sigh of relief. "I ain't on the market."

"And why not?" she stomped her pink pumps like a tantrum throwing child.

"'Cause chicks are friggin' crazy. 'Specially you." with that he climbed the whining escape and hefted himself over the roof's ledge. Despite the nauseas and quickly doubling vision, Raph took off towards April's apartment in a sprint.

And if he fell off a roof on the way?

Well... at least then he'd be put out of his misery.

* * *

There was something about puking your guts out that destroyed determination. Raphael, bent over and heaving in the shadows of a back alley, had to wonder of just how much vomit this city had the misfortune of tasting. With all the bar fights and drunks he'd seen, it was a marvel that he and his brothers had never stumbled upon any congealing upchucks on their excursions.

April's apartment was still a couple blocks away, and seeing as how he couldn't walk the streets, he'd just have to take the back routes. He blinked hard against the realization. The bag crackled as he reached for the wall, whispering of another forgotten thing. April wanted aspirin too.

Hell, _he_ could use an aspirin now.

"Ugh, screw it. Just get to April's, Raphie-boy." he chuckled to himself, dark and dry. "Damn I hate that nickname... Raphie, Raphie, Raphie, thanks a lot Mike." A scoff. "Idiot. No wait, Casey's the idiot."

The brick was grimy under his palms as he continued his wobbly trek and garbled rant. Reality was failing him, but, through the haze clouding his mind, Raphael knew that if he had the dumb luck of stumbling across another gang he wouldn't be able to defend himself, or run for that matter. With all the concussions the young ninja had suffered he didn't need Donnie rattling off signs and symptoms. He didn't need another lecture on the importance of staying awake and of avoiding conflicts. Hell, if Raph wanted he could recite every medical fact about a concussion right now.

But at the moment Raphael didn't care. All he wanted was to get to April's quiet apartment and lay down.

Fate saw the teen to April's back door with no more trouble. There, amber eyes gazed up at the fire escape, then to the chipping green wood surface that stood starkly amongst thousands of weather worn bricks. His tongue clicked once.

_Screw it, the woman can walk down a flight of friggin' stairs and let me in._

His thumb slammed into the buzzer just as a bottle shattered from the other end of the alley. Instincts snapped Raph straight. He drew his sais, pommels reflecting his bruising jaw back at him. That, and an awfully large trashcan.

With a fleeting glance at the still sealed door, Raphael faded back into the shadows and crouched behind the dumpster. Outside of the light's reach the loud footfall stilled, stayed, started again, then lingered in what Raph could only pin as pacing.

He huffed into the hot summer night, wishing it was winter just so his frustration could solidify into a cloud. As it were, there was no outlet for his rage to plug into. So it soured his stomach instead. It wound his fists around his weapons and bounced his heels beneath his hunched weight. His balance was already off, so it was just a miracle the motion didn't topple him.

Raphael pinched his heavy eyes shut. When he opened them, the footsteps found a face. Casey Jones.

The bastard.

The fact that he might be imagining his friend never occurred to the turtle. Frankly he couldn't care less at this point.

Sheathing his sais, Raphael peeled himself from the shadows, a growl rumbling up his throat that brought a tinge of bile with it. No words had a chance to form as Case fell back a step.

His blue eyes widened at the sight of Raphael. "Man, what the hell happened to ya? Step in front of a truck or—"

"What happened? I'll tell ya 'what happened'!" he jabbed Case in the chest. "You're an ass who can't seem ta grasp the simple concept of thinkin'!"

The human knocked the hand away. "Me? What did I do?"

Raphael pressed his fingers to his temples and leaned against the nearest solid structure. In no more than a grumble, he recounted the events of the nights, never once sparing Casey of an insult. The venom mixed with exhaustions, the angry words mingled with bouts of incoherency, but at last the explanation ended. And Casey, with all his fumbling charm, rubbed the back of his neck remorsefully.

"Sorry," he offered, staring at his shoes like a scolded child. "I didn't mean to get ya involved with this whole mess with April."

"Just forget it." with that, the red masked ninja untied the bag from his belt and tossed it to Casey. His fingers tacked into his friend's shoulder and spun him towards the green door that was _still_ closed. "Just fix things with April and forget it."

"How am I suppose to do that? She won't talk to me!"

Amber eyes rolled to the sky, silently asking just what the hell he did to deserve this night. A single emerald hand snatched Case's wrist and lifted the cursed tampons right under the human's nose.

"This whole thing started 'cause of these, right?"

Brows crumpled in confusion. "Uh... I guess."

"Then the solution is right under yer nose, pal. Literally."

"Ya think?"

"Someone has to." Raph's lips curled up in a smirk.

But Casey let the barb slide. Instead a finger found his chin the same time a frown folded his mouth down. "One problem. She ain't gonna let me in."

"Yeah, well she's expectin' me." Raph sneered in annoyance. He slammed his finger into the buzzer, insistently, and smacked Casey's hand and the package up in front of the peephole. "Just hold the damn box up and don't say anythin' stupid."

"So don't say anything then?"

Foot steps sounded inside and Raphael released the button. With a nod he took a step back. "State the obvious, why don't ya? Jeez,"

Raph retreated to the manhole he and his brothers always used to get to April's and removed the metal disc. It was heavy as hell tonight.

"Thanks man, I owe ya one." Casey called to him as the turtle swung his legs into the darkness below.

"No ya don't," Raph grunted. "Ya owe me fifty, asshole." with that he dropped the lid down just at the door swung open.

* * *

Leonardo sat before the TVs with a cup of steaming tea in one hand and _The_ _Art_ _Of_ _War _open in the other. The clock had yet to pass midnight, but the leader was already settled in for a long night of worrying. Or so he thought.

A whine of the Lair's door's hidden wheels lifted Leo's eyes before they could fall upon the first sentence. He blinked like a bird spying a wormhole twice its size.

"You're home early," he said without turning. "Slow night?"

"I wish."

The two words slurred together, and in a blur Leo was on his feet, disposing of his book and dish to the coffee table. Mother hen mode flipped on as he took in the dazed look in Raphael's eyes, the dry blood flaking against his flushed skin, and the way he stumbled with every step. In an instant, Leo was by his brother's side, grabbing his arm and guiding him down the stairs.

"Shell, Raph, what—"

"Long story." the hothead interrupted as he unsuccessfully tried to pull away.

With a shake of his head and a flutter of his blue mask tail, Leo hollered towards the lab. "Donatello!"

"Eh, Fearless, would ya keep it down? Jeez..." Raphael rubbed his head, his ears beginning to ring.

"Where's Casey? I thought you two..." he paused in search of the right word, one that wouldn't excite blows from his brother. "...'Patrolled' together on Fridays."

Before Raphael could spit a scathing answer out, Don entered with a phone pressed to his ear. "Uh-huh, April. Yes, I understand. He's here now," the genius paused in both conversation and gait. Analytically he took in his brother's drooping lids and uncoordinated legs. "And definitely has a concussion. I need to go and _you_," he jostled Raph to attention, "Need to stay awake."

"Oh _I'll_ keep him awake." April's voice snapped through the speaker loud enough for Raph to hear. "Give him the phone."

Visibly surprised, the genius vied his injured sibling in a silent game of twenty questions. To which the only response was a nearly pleading shake of the head. A shared glance with Leo, and Don was speaking into the cell once more. "I don't think that's a good idea—"

"_Donatello._"

Cringing, Don passed the phone to his brother and smiled apologetically. "April wants to talk to you."

"I think I'd rather be in a coma," he mumbled, but accepted the device. The march to the lab matched the mounting of the cell, and only when he was safely seated with the residential doctor hovering over his head did he dare breathe. "Yeah?"

"Care to explain what Casey was doing at my door?" she let the question hang like the blade of a guillotine.

Red flashed before his eyes, too fast and fleeting to be from any rage. It was in the next blink that the haze of confusion cleared and he realized it had only been his mask falling from his face. A chuckle vibrated in his throat, anything but humored. "The hell if I know, Ape. Maybe he wanted to be the mature one this time, fix things 'cause ya ain't."

The dangling blade dropped, piercing the air with a shrill hiss in its descent towards Raph's head. "Don't play coy with me, I know what you did."

He didn't even flinch. "Then ya should be thankin' me."

"For _meddling_?"

"Ey, it's yer fault, not mine."

"How's that?"

"Ya started it!"

Mikey joined Leo beneath the threshold, a flashlight dangling from his belt and a comic cradled reverently against his chest. He yawned hugely, watching as Raph animatedly yapped into the phone.

"Erm, why are Raph and April arguing like an old married couple?"

The leader's brows knitted in confusion and scrutiny, and ever so slowly he offered the youngest a shrug. "I'd like to know what he got hit by."

"A pipe?" Don guessed as he gazed the clotted wound with disinfectant.

"Oh, so _that's_ what was so important? A street brawl!" Raphael ripped the phone back as the rant rose the woman's voice an octave higher. "Men are all the same, I swear. Charge head first into a fight, big strong hero here, not afraid of death or dismemberment. Yet given a simple errand—"

"It got done, didn't it? What the hell does it matter who delivered it!"

"Delivered what?" Mikey piped, fascinated by the cryptic banter.

"None of yer business, Mike." Raph spat, knowing full well that his brothers would never let him live this embarrassment down. With that thought searing through his brain and scorching his cheeks a shade darker, the hothead turned back to the phone. "Hell, it was none of _my_ business, April. I'm not yer damn boyfriend."

There was silence on the other end, as long and crackling as a frozen river. Slowly the rushing water beneath the ice built, wearing away the surface until it was no longer safe. At any moment Raph would fall in, he was sure of it.

So he dropped his voice low, consciously aware of all the siblings crowding him. "Why are ya cryin'? _I'm_ the one who got knocked over the head, jeez."

"I'm sorry," she sniffled.

"Good ta know."

"Raph..."

Said turtle winced at his name. Reluctantly he cleared his throat, "What?"

"You grabbed the wrong brand."

"The wrong..." his eyes widened at the words, and for a moment there was silence between the two. Then April laughed, tiredly, and feeling like an idiot Raphael joined in.

"How hard did you get hit, dude?" Mikey swirled a finger next to his head, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

But Raphael ignored him, choosing instead to bury his face in his free palm in an effort to banish the ridiculousness of it all. After everything he had to go through... this was the outcome? A mistake wrought from humiliation. One that was too silly and sad to do anything but laugh at. Gathering in a breath Raphael forced out some words. "So is Casey...?"

"He just left." April settled, the giggles fading from her voice.

"Damn, I wish I could'a seen his face." Raph thumped the chair he sat on, traded a few more words with April, then hung up with a shake of his aching head. It was only when he discarded the phone to the cluttered desk that the stares of his siblings phased him. Frowning, he worked his mouth into a sneer and his voice into a growl. "What are ya gawkin' at? Get out."

With a sigh from Leo and pout from Mikey, the two filed out. Donatello finished wrapping a clean bandage around Raph's head and sank into a swivel chair. A shy grin gave light to doe eyes.

"What?" Raph snapped.

To which Don only shook his head, unashamed and clearly amused. "Oh, nothing. I was only thinking how, of all of us, you should be the most sympathetic to April's situation." he tepeed his hands beneath his chin, thoughtfully. Or maybe just to hide the smile.

"The hell are you gettin' at, Einstein?"

"April might be difficult once a month, but you, dear brother, experience mood swings year round. So much so, in fact, that if it weren't for us being reptiles, and not mammals, I'd have to wonder about you being all that..."

"If ya even think about endin' that sentence," Raphael warned.

And much like the phone call he ignored two hours earlier, Donatello laid his hands down and shut his mouth. _Caller ID, man's greatest invention._

* * *

**A/N: How does that saying go... "Feed the starving artist"? Yes, that's it! We live on a diet of reviews, critiques, and the occasional... erm, I can't think of a third thing. LOL. ^_^  
**

**Let me know if you enjoyed this little Tangent please! :)**

**Cheers! your red writing rebel.**


End file.
